


Last Chance

by fhsa_archivist



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Challenge Response, Holidays
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-09-09
Updated: 2004-09-09
Packaged: 2019-02-05 18:58:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,197
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12800298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fhsa_archivist/pseuds/fhsa_archivist
Summary: Just an odd little thing for the Valentine's Day challenge





	Last Chance

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Haven, the archivist: This story was originally archived at [Fandom Haven Story Archive (FHSA)](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Fandom_Haven_Story_Archive), was scheduled to shut down at the end of 2016. To preserve the archive, I began working with the OTW to transfer the stories to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in November 2017. If you are this creator and the work hasn't transferred to your AO3 account, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Fandom Haven Story Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/fhsa/profile).

NOTE: For Ursula - the refuge was her request

 

BETA: Everyone I could manage to convince - Elizabeth, April, Ursula, Teri and Em... I think that's it.

 

 

I never was a big fan of Valentine's Day. Just not a hearts-n-flowers kind of guy. The thing is that even if I were inclined to send chocolates or roses to my lover, I wouldn't have the vaguest idea of *where* to send it.

 

He turns up once or twice a month, spends the night with me, and is gone by morning.

 

Where does he go?

 

Hell, I don't know where he lives, how he supports himself, or why he keeps coming back to me. He does, you know. Always.

 

The only thing I *do* know is that I can't resist him.

 

The very first time I met him, I wanted him. God, he was beautiful - cheap suit, gelled hair, and the prettiest green eyes I'd ever seen. I'd have cheerfully given my eyeteeth for one touch, a kiss... oh hell, I wanted to lean him across my desk and fuck him into the next year.

 

I'm sure you know about all the shit that happened once Alex Krycek entered my little corner of the world. Lies, betrayals, and death, oh my!

 

And through it all, I never lost my desire for him. Well, it did wane a little when he killed me...

 

Fun, it wasn't.

 

But, that's all done now. We've never discussed it - not any of it.

 

And I don't want to.

 

Not yet. Maybe not ever. Such a conversation might tear us apart. I can't face that possibility.

 

He and I are the only ones left now. Mulder and Scully are up north

somewhere, learning the joys and sorrows of married life and parenthood. Doggett transferred back to New York after 9-11. Reyes recently quit the FBI to write horror novels. Apparently her first book sold fantastically well.

 

I'm still here, though.

 

And so is he.

 

One winter evening, not long after Mulder and Scully got married, he just showed up at my condo. And that night, after nine long years of yearning, I got him.

 

In the foyer.

 

On the couch.

 

Then, at some ungodly early hour of the morning, he woke me from an exhausted and sated sleep. That time he had me.

 

So, we became lovers. Not that either of us ever expresses any of that goopy sentiment that most lovers share. No, he shows up, we fuck each others' brains out, and in the morning he leaves. But, after the fucking... oh, afterwards he wraps himself around me and holds on all night.

 

I tell myself it's enough.

 

Sometimes I even believe me.

 

It's February. Cold, wet, slushy and miserable. I haven't seen him since Christmas night. Which is very odd. He's never stayed away for longer than three weeks.

 

Until now.

 

I'm actually concerned. Concerned enough to ask for help. The gunmen were pretty well stunned when I went to them, requesting that they look for him.

 

I think they're worried about me.

 

Then, on the thirteenth, it arrived. When I got home from work at ten pm, it was waiting in my mailbox. A manila envelope. Nothing special. Just a plain old envelope.

 

The contents though, are a revelation.

 

Two photocopies, one of a deed to a large piece of property in Virginia, the other a drivers license with a picture of Alex on it. The name on both is Alex Michaelson.

 

And a photograph. One of those aerial views that farmers like to display as proof of the size of their... holding. This place is big. An old farmhouse, several outbuildings, a barn, and kennels with outside runs.

 

On the bottom is printed: "Last Chance Animal Refuge".

 

Okay. This has to be investigated. Now.

 

Within ten minutes, I'm in the car headed south on I-95. Never mind that it's almost eleven o'clock. I want to know what the hell is going on - what the contents of that envelope mean. At this hour, the beltway is fairly quiet. A little over an hour later, I'm just south of Alexandria, searching for this 'Last Chance' place. It doesn't take long to find it. I park in front of the main kennel building and get out of the car.

 

Now what? Stupidly, I stand there staring at the dogs in their runs as they express their displeasure at my late arrival.

 

"Been expectin' you."

 

I turn quickly to face the speaker. "Do I know you?" I ask the elderly black man. 

 

He shakes his grizzled head. "Nope. But I know you, Walter Skinner."

 

I wave the envelope at him. "Did you send this to me, Mr. -"

 

"Jones," he says. "Clifton Jones. An' yes. I sent it."

 

"Why?"

 

"'Cause the boy's missing you, Mr. Skinner. He'd never send for you, so I did. He's a stubborn one, our Alex."

 

"*Our* Alex?"

 

He nods emphatically. "Known that boy since he was a toddler. I help him run this place."

 

"What, *exactly*, is this place?"

 

"Just what the name says. We take unmanageable, mistreated animals that'd be put down at most any other shelter." He nods towards the kennel, "Try to rehabilitate as many as we can for adoption. Some can't ever trust again. Them we keep."

 

Well I'll be damned. Alex owns and runs an animal refuge.

 

Makes an odd kind of sense, actually.

 

"Where is he?"

 

"Alex is in the house. In bed."

 

In bed? Uh oh.

 

My growing panic must be pretty obvious to the other man. He shakes his head. "He's okay. Ran up against a horse ornerier than he is. Alex came out of it with a broken leg. The horse," he adds slyly, "is just fine."

 

Well, that damned animal won't be fine if I have anything to say about it.

 

"Go on inside," Cliff says. "Keep him occupied. Alex never was one for keepin' still. Boy's about driven me out of my mind since he's been laid up."

 

Before Cliff is finished speaking, I'm on my way. I enter the kitchen and yell for Alex. I hear a thump from the back of the house and make my way to his bedroom.

 

"Alex," I growl, "why the *hell* didn't you let me know you were hurt?"

 

He's staring at me in stunned silence. His mouth opens and closes a couple of times as he tries to speak.

 

He really is kinda cute.

 

"Have you eaten?"

 

He nods a yes.

 

"Need anything? A drink? Bathroom?"

 

He shakes his head negatively.

 

"Good." I start to undress.

 

"Wh-what are you..."

 

Eureka! He speaks.

 

"I am not sleeping in my suit, Alex. Don't be silly."

 

His eyebrows rise towards his hairline. "Silly?" he repeats incredulously.

 

"Silly," I confirm. "And cute. And mine."

 

He swallows heavily. "Yours?"

 

I hang my suit in the closet and walk over to the bed. "You got a problem with that?"

 

"No," he whispers. "No problem at all."

 

"Well then, shove over and let me get into bed. It's late and I'm tired."

 

Silently, he shifts to his right and I climb in and put my arms around him. "Tonight," I say, "*I* will hold *you*."

 

And I do. All night.


End file.
